Once, in an ill-conceived attempt to fit in I joined my New York high school's cross country running team. My coach insisted on calling me Subaru instead of trying to pronounce Sharbari, immediately marginalizing me.
One day, practice was let out early and my mother was seen on the upper field, her sari gently flapping in the wind, searching for me. I was mortified that everyone had seen Amma in a sari. I quit cross country -- because I was rubbish at it -- but also because I didn't want any more attention drawn to my otherness. Kids did make fun of me for it.
This is all to say that I get writer Mindy Kaling. I get why all her characters feel like misfits and why being brown, deshi, and a girl in America can be hard. But it is not the only refrain, not by a long shot. Though you wouldn't necessarily know it by watching her shows.
Full disclosure I have not watched Velma, her latest, much maligned, offering. It is a 21st century re-imagining of a character in an animated series of the 70s and 80s The Adventures of Scooby Doo about a group of dapper (for the 70s and except for the perpetually stoned Shaggy) teens and their mostly unintelligible talking dog Scooby who solve crimes.
In this more adult iteration Velma Dinkley, voiced by Kaling, is South Asian, and queer. Far from being the “woke” version of a beloved American series that Tucker Carlson would use an example of how wholesome Americana is being perverted by the radical left, it is being decried as the opposite of progressive and has attracted the ire of liberal deshis and non-deshis alike.
According to reports, Velma spends her time bemoaning being Indian and generally paints herself as a dorky loser as a result. Essentially like all of Kaling's heroines to date.
Kaling is arguably funny. Her deadpan and disaffected Kelly Kapur on The Office was one of my favorites. Her Mindy, in The Mindy Project, did not resonate as much with me, and the reason it didn't, to be brutally honest, is because it reminded me of my own colonized past when I spent an exorbitant amount of time in my twenties and thirties pursuing white acceptance and how much I have outgrown it.
Kaling should be lauded for her success. It is no mean feat for a BIPOC woman to have three shows they have written and produced airing simultaneously. I just worry that being self-deprecating to the point of self-denigration is the only way for our narratives to be greenlit by executives.
What is fascinating and hopeful is that I think many viewers, if not studio and network executives, are growing weary of a type of humour entrenched in the idea that being brown and South Asian is not as appealing as being white.
I certainly don't feel like a loser just because I am of South Asian heritage. I think I am intermittently fabulous and wear saris whenever I can.
It's still a challenge because I still live in America. I was once told: “Oh you're from Bangladesh? I'm surprised, the only ones I have met are Uber drivers and busboys.”
Apparently, Bangladesh is a nation populated entirely by members of the service industry (not that there is anything wrong with it). That remark just reaffirmed how incredibly narrow people's notions are when it comes to us.
More sophisticated television and filmic narratives could perhaps expand their pitiful horizons. Though I don't feel it is my job, as a TV writer myself, to educate white people.
I also don't think that Kaling has any obligation to be the sub-continental ambassador to Hollywood. She does not need to bear the burden of representation. She can tell her stories as she sees fit and her portrayal of the Indian American experience is merely that, her personal interpretation of what it means to be South Asian in American society.
She also figured out what sells, and she capitalized on it. The tropes she uses are not particularly harmful, they are reductive. Audiences now hunger for something more nuanced and complex whilst being entertained.
She should not be yanked off the stage with a hook; that serves no purpose. Some of the criticism has been savage and leaves no opportunity for real discussion.
Executives should see that there is room on that stage for numerous South Asian American voices along with Kaling's and should give her space and thus inspiration to grow so she doesn't feel pressure to regurgitate the same gags ad nauseam.
The sub-continent is rich, and our stories are varied, but truthfully, it should not always be about being South Asian and not every TV story needs to be framed by our ethnicity or skin colour.
Sharbari Ahmed is a Bangladeshi-American author and TV writer. She also recently started gardening for fun and has two nutty dogs.